Page 31 of Seal the Deal

What do you mean you don’t know how to fold?

Charlie

The sound of the doorbell jolts me, and I nearly spill my wine. I set the glass down quickly, hands shaky with a mix of nerves and excitement.

Zoe’s voice echoes in my mind:Pour yourself a glass of wine and stop being a pussy.Well, I took her advice, but now that Jake’s actually here, one glass may not cut it.

I smooth down my apron, take a deep breath, and walk to the door. I can do this. It’s just baking, just an afternoon with an old friend. But nothing about this feels likejustanything.

When I open the door, Jake’s standing there with bags of ingredients, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever. That nervous flutter in my stomach turns into a full-blown storm.

“Hey, Charlie,” he says. “Or should I call you Chef?”That smile should come with a warning label.

I raise an eyebrow, leaning on the doorframe. “That depends. Think you can follow orders?”

His eyes glint as he steps inside. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

Hefollows me to the kitchen, moving like he’s been here a hundred times before, filling the house with an energy that feels both familiar and unnervingly new. There’s something both thrilling and terrifying about it.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jake asks, setting the bags down on the counter. “I’m at your mercy, Chef.”Oh, there are several things I would have you do at my mercy.

I laugh a little too loudly, and grab my wine glass for a quick gulp. “Alright, first thing’s first—do you know what folding is?”

His eyebrow quirks up, smirk edging into a grin. “Folding? Like… laundry?”

“Likebaking,” I correct, trying to keep a straight face. “It’s a technique, not just stirring. You have to be gentle, so you don’t knock the air out of the batter.”

The grin widens. “So, it’s like stirring but fancy. Got it.”

I narrow my eyes at him with mock seriousness. “This is very important. I don’t think I trust you with it.”

He puts a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Charlie. But alright—what am I allowed to do?”

“Measuring,” I say, pointing to a bowl. “Everything needs to be exact. You can handle that, right?”

“I think I can manage.”

I hand him the measuring cups and recipe, watching as he carefully scoops flour into the bowl, his focus almost comically intense for such a simple task. The scene is so absurdly domestic, it makes my heart twist.Measuring flour isn’t hot, measuring flour isn’t hot.

“So,” he says, glancing at me. “How long have you been perfecting your control-freak baking methods?”

Biting back a grin, I try to sound authoritative. “It’s not control-freakishness. It’s precision.”

He leans in, close enough that I catch a hint of his cologne. “It’s cute.”Oh my God.

I roll my eyes, ignoring the flush creeping up my neck. “Less talking, more measuring.”Get it together, Charlie.

Hechuckles, but not before brushing past me, his arm grazing mine, sending a tingle through me. As we work, the conversation flows easily with the kind of light banter that feels effortless. It’s just like camp. Easy, familiar.

But underneath it all, there’s tension. It hums between us, unspoken but obvious.Is he as terrified as I am?

At one point, Jake glances over and his eyes turn more serious. “So, what made you decide to move here? With the kids and everything?”

I pause, caught off guard. I’ve thought about it a thousand times, but hearing him ask in that non-judgemental way makes it feel more real. I focus on folding the batter like it’s the most important thing in the world. “It was time for a change. Things with my ex weren’t good because he was more focused on his career than on us.”

Jake nods, his expression thoughtful. “That must’ve been hard.”

“It was,” I say softly. “But staying would’ve been harder, you know? I tried for a long time to… I don’t know, make it work. Make him love us. But it was always one-sided. I couldn’t keep letting him break my babies’ hearts. I had to do what was right for them—and for me.”

---